Tuesday, March 31, 2015

It's her spaghetti strap
In an overlap
Falling down the banister
climbing up both legs

It's in the back room
In the back store
In the closet
behind the box of

Everything within her hands
was lost before
the night began
to worry
What's that look on her face for?
Everything that's come to pass
was bottled up
inside that dance
together
What's that's look on her face for?

It's with the minister
with his barrister
And he's very stern
Watching it slide on by

It's in the words he says
What she doesn't say
For a moment they'll
think back to what was

Tuesday, March 17, 2015

I held a stick for a sword
The battlefield laid out before me
In my back yard
With an enemy
-Damn fierce-
Armies in the dandelions
Marching all day long

With only me to take the fight to them

When I wasWhen I was...

Here I am,
31 years old or so
At sixes and sevens
Already set in my ways
With sicknesses and syndromes
Soliloquies on serviettes
I cannot help but wonder
-Drowning from the inside out-
In the space of two dozen summers
Where the hell the warrior went?

Tuesday, February 24, 2015

The neighbors are quiet
Everyone's gone inside
On a sunny bright but forgotten eve
Satellites are catching rays
In bursts of sound and stratosphere
And I'm colliding with the rest of them
Colluding with the unescaped
Collecting fragments of ourselves
Our past.

There's a whisper on the lips
Of demigods and debutantes
Fears and conflagration
And pastels on the walls

With a Sunday shade of worship
We all concede the field
It wasn't what we hoped for
Wasn't what we asked for
And we're colliding once again

She needs to wash her windows,
He's got to change the oil
There are pine cones in the pool out back
There is family coming in from Perth

Carefully, and constantly pushing further on

I never understood
How it can be
When ninety and nine of the world want peace
Ninety and nine just want to be left alone
How one can end it all.